Diamond Jubilee service: A family, a nation and a Commonwealth are united in joyful thanks

Under the soaring dome of St Paul’s Cathedral, the Diamond Jubilee reached its
regal, and spiritual, apotheosis as the 60-year compact between Queen and
country was affirmed in an occasion of solemnity, majesty and exultation the
likes of which no other nation on earth could equal.

Addressing the congregation of more than 2,000 people, with millions more watching on television around the world, the Archbishop of Canterbury paid tribute to the selflessness of a monarch who in 60 years of “utterly demanding yet deeply joyful service” had “made her public happy”.

He also offered prayers for the speedy recovery of the Duke of Edinburgh, whose absence from the Queen’s side in “the nation’s church” cast a shadow over the proceedings.

Writing in her journal on June 22 1897, on the last occasion of a Diamond Jubilee, Queen Victoria made note of the crowds that had gathered to watch her progress from Buckingham Palace to the steps of St Paul’s.

“No one ever, I believe, has met with such an ovation as was given to me, passing through those 6 miles of streets . . . the cheering was quite deafening & every face seemed to be filled with real joy. I was much moved and gratified.”

No one until now. For the past three days, the streets of London have been awash with flags and cheers, and yesterday the crowds had begun to gather outside St Paul’s from 5am, to catch a glimpse of the royal arrivals.

Inside, to the sound of pealing bells, congregants had begun to take their places more than an hour before the arrival of the Royal party — an array of formal fig, military splendour and dazzling headgear.

Leaders of the Government and Opposition sat in a block to the left of the nave. Beside the Prime Minister, Samantha Cameron chatted cordially to Nick Clegg, and his wife Miriam to William Hague. Behind them, Boris Johnson leaned forward to engage Jeremy Hunt in earnest conversation.

To the right of the nave sat representatives of other faiths and of the Commonwealth, the endurance of which surely numbers among the Queen’s greatest achievements

These great occasions of state, in their combination of time-honoured tradition and pageantry, bring forth a singular cast of actors whose roles and purpose seem to be at the same time both completely mystifying and deeply necessary: Heralds and Pursuivants, looking like a royal flush in a poker hand in their richly embroidered tabards; the Keeper of the Closet, the Clerk of the Closet; the Lord High Almoner.

All play their parts as if directed by clockwork. At 9.57 precisely, the Queen’s bodyguard of Yeomen of the Guard moved down the north nave aisle in steady measure, followed by Her Majesty’s Body Guard of the Honourable Corps of Gentlemen, resplendent in red tunics, their golden helmets extravagantly plumed in swan feather, pikes in hand, the tread of their boots echoing on the marble floor.

At 10.25, from inside the cathedral one could hear a massive cheer rising from the crowd, signalling the arrival of the Prince of Wales, the Duchess of Cornwall, the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge and — as the Order of Service had it — Prince Henry, to muster at the Great West Door.

Three minutes later, the Queen arrived, accompanied by a lady-in-waiting, Diana, Lady Farnham. A fanfare shook the cathedral.

At the last Diamond Jubilee, Queen Victoria was too frail to withstand the rigours of procession; the thanksgiving service took place on the steps of St Paul’s, so that the Queen could remain in her carriage.

Queen Elizabeth, having stood on Sunday for the best part of four hours in the worst weather a British summer could provide, has displayed a stamina and resilience extraordinary in a woman of her age, but processing slowly through the nave, to the stirring strains of Te Deum in G, she looked preoccupied, almost troubled — her thoughts no doubt torn between the matter at hand and the well-being of her husband.

Taking her place on a red velvet chair, bathed in light streaming in through the high vaulted window above the north transept, the Prince of Wales to her right, the Queen might well have reflected on the curious twists of fate that had led her to this moment.

Seventy-seven years ago, in May 1935, as a 10-year-old girl, she had sat in St Paul’s for the Silver Jubilee of her grandfather, King George V. Within nine months the King was dead. In December 1936, Edward VIII abdicated, and the

10-year-old Princess had become heir presumptive.

Now, surrounded by all the embodiments and trappings of high state, one could reflect that what one was witnessing was the summation of a 1,000-year evolution towards a form of governance that has served the nation better than any other possibly could, with a head of state who embodies continuity, sangfroid and steadfastness — the national values — impervious to the transitory caprices of politics and current affairs.

It is not so long ago that the steps of St Paul’s was the scene of another, less majestic spectacle, occupied by protesters calling for the heads of bankers and hedge-fund capitalists.

We live in a troubled and, in many ways, divided nation.

And it is one of the great triumphs of the monarchy that it should have somehow detached itself from the fractious social divisions in Britain between increasing wealth and increasing poverty. That the very seat of inherited privilege should somehow stand above the fray, commanding a deep and abiding respect, borne from a collective recognition that the Queen stands quite apart from such things — the great unifying principle and rock of constancy — and that her interests are not in the self but in the nation.

In this small, grandmotherly figure stands the fulfilment of the pledge she made on her 21st birthday in 1947, that “my whole life, whether it be long or short, shall be devoted to your service” — a pledge to the nation that she renewed this February, on the anniversary of her accession to the throne, when she vowed to “dedicate myself anew to your service”.

Service. It was a word that constantly echoed throughout the proceedings. In his New Testament reading, from Romans, the Prime Minister spoke of presenting “your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God”, not to think of yourself “more highly that you ought to think”, and to recognise that “we have gifts that differ according to the grace given to us”.

In his sermon, the Archbishop of Canterbury extolled the virtue of dedication, sounding a playful reference to the popular 1960s hit Dedicated Follower of Fashion (the first, and surely the last, time the spirit of The Kinks will be summoned in a Diamond Jubilee service). Dedicated, he said, has come to mean “enthusiastic”.

But true dedication is to say “I have no goals that are not the goals of this community; I have no well-being, no happiness, that is not the well-being of the community. What will make me content or happy is what makes for the good of this particular part of the human family.”

The Queen, he went on, had exemplified this ideal, displaying a dedication that had endured “faithfully, calmly and generously” through the 60 years of her reign.

Queen Victoria wrote that, before leaving Buckingham Palace for her Diamond Jubilee procession, that she “touched an electric button, by which I started a message which was telegraphed throughout the whole Empire. It was the following, 'From my heart I thank my beloved people, may God bless them.’ ”

There is no longer an Empire; the Queen’s subjects have dwindled in number — but the Queen’s dominion is of a different kind. She is the repository not of global power, but global fascination, and of a deep affection and respect.

In his sermon the Archbishop of Canterbury spoke of his hope that these Jubilee celebrations would create a lasting legacy inspired by the example of the Queen — “the rebirth of an energetic, generous spirit of dedication to the common good and the public service, the rebirth of a recognition that we live less than human lives if we think of just of our own individual good”. For the Queen’s example to effect such a transformation in her Jubilee year would be her crowning achievement.